What's that coming out of the Oven?
by JeffersonStarship
Summary: Sam and Dean attempt to bake a cake with unsatisfactory results!


Here's another one that I wrote, further proof that I have travelled further down the road to madness!!

"This is so gay, Sammy! I really don't know why you've got me doing this!" I groused, as I beat in two eggs to a bowl of sugar and butter creamed together. "I hunt mnsters for a living. I don't do cooking!"

"Why not? I hunt monsters and I do cooking! I enjoy it, Dean and so should you. Beats the hell out of all the crap you usually eat and usually get me eating by default! The body is a temple and all that!" Sam told me, pointing a chocolate cream covered spoon at me and just pulled it back before the mix globbed onto the work surface.

"My body is a temple where chocolate worships, Sammy! You're lucky we're making a cake with chocolate cream or I never would have agreed to this!" I said, trying to hide an amused smile.

My younger brother caught me trying not to smile and pointed his spoon at me again. This time his chocolate cream mix did drip onto the work surface but it was as if Sam didn't even notice.

Instead he said, - "Admit it Dean! You're enjoying this!"

Reluctantly, I admitted - " Maybe just a little bit, yes, it's definitely easier than battling werewolves and demons, but only just! But if I catch you telling anyone I just said that, I'll make you eat your words!"

An hour later and I would be the one eating my words, when Sam announced that it should be done cooking.

With some trepidation, I opened the oven door and ducked as something large and distinctly doughy came flying out of the oven, short chubby arms reaching out for something to presumably attack.

"Holy Focaccia!" I said, coming out of the duck just in time to see Sam straighten up from his own duck. I could see my younger brother looking pretty baffled by the whole experience as the cake monster came to try and eat my brother.

I whistled to try and attract the cake monster's attention, hoping that my thrown together plan would be just good enough to save my brother's cookies. No pun intended.

I wafted a handful of chocolate in the air, feeling it start to melt in my too hot, too sweaty hands, baut it was enough to divert the cake-boy's attention away from my brother. The beast of an underdone cake came for me instead, arms flailing, mouth wide open as it reached for me and what I held in my now dripping hand.

"Come and get it, you squidgy, malformed, half baked excuse for a cake," I said, tossing the dripping handful of chocolate into the oven.

With a muffled roar, the cake leapt back into the oven where it came from to get it's chocolate fix. I slammed the oven door shut after it and exhaled a large sigh of relief, sagging against the work surface where earlier I'd been creming the cake mix. It took me a while to realize that Sam was laughing and laughing so hard he actually had tears coursing down his cheeks.

"What? Sammy, what?" I asked, arms out-spread in indignation, even as I started to smile myself.

My younger brother's laughter was infectious and I would defy anyone to not smile back at him when he was like this, showing his deep dimples of doom!

"I'm sorry Dean - well done for defeating yet another monster, but really? You squidgy, malformed, half baked excuse for a cake?Is that the best you could come up with? Oh, Dean, honestly!" and Sam doubled up in laughter again.

"What? I had to think on my feet then!" I laughed. "Could you have done any better, Stanford boy?"

"Probably not! Maybe there's something wrong with the oven! Did you turn it up high enough? What temperature is it set at?" Sam asked me, calming down a little at last.

"150 degrees!" I told him, as I checked the dial.

"There's your answer then - it's not turned up high enough! No wonder we had trouble with it! It needs to be at least 200 degrees minimum to be cooked through properly," Sam pointed out with a laugh.

"Yeah, whatever, dude, I'm still exorcising this damn oven afterwards, just in case!" I said darkly, as I threw the oven a dubious look.

We had to wait another half an hour before Sam deemed the cake fully cooked. Even then neither of us fancied eating it, considering what had happened earlier. We fed it to the motel dog, and I tried to take no notice of it's suddenly glowing green eyes, deciding to exorcise the dog, right after we exorcised the oven ...


End file.
